


Over the Garden Wall: The Unknown

by earthkidsareweird



Series: Over the Garden Wall But With Reddie [9]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Over the Garden Wall Fusion, Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Bittersweet Ending, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Edelwood Trees, Hurt Richie Tozier, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Out of Character Pennywise (IT), Protective Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Needs a Hug, The Unknown (Over the Garden Wall)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24485290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthkidsareweird/pseuds/earthkidsareweird
Summary: It has Richie Tozier.Eddie Kaspbrak isn't about to stand around and let something happen to him. Lucky for him, Bev and the others are ready to support him in saving Richie before it's too late.It's an Over the Garden Wall with Reddie Finale
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Over the Garden Wall But With Reddie [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621285
Comments: 44
Kudos: 17





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of character list:
> 
> Eddie=Wirt (ish)  
> Richie=Greg (ish)  
> Bev=Beatrice  
> Mike=Woodsman  
> Beast=Pennywise  
> Bill=Fred the Horse  
> Ben=Miss Langtree (ish)  
> Stan=Endicott (ish)

# I.

There’s not much a bird can do in a situation like this or really any situation at all. Feathers did little to save lives and it’s not like birds have fingers, and fingers are especially useful. Bev lands on a branch at such a loss. The frost running along it sends a whole lotta cold throughout her. Winter’s here. It snuck up on them all teeth and nails. Bev opens her mouth about to scream for Richie again but this time around she doesn’t because it’s time she gets real about the whole situation, Richie’s _gone_. Somewhere back there Eddie’s fine. Stan, too. Ben and Bill are with them at the tavern, but there’s no sign of Richie other than some muddy footprints.

Kids die all the time out here. It’s a universal fact everybody knows, and yet she can’t let it take this time around. Not Richie. But also, not any of them, none of the guys she just met. Ben.

Bev exhales to scream RICHIE again when she spots another opportunity instead. Below Mike cuts through trees, he’s pushing aside branches that fight back.

“MIKE!” Bev shouts at him.

It takes him a few seconds to realize where she’s calling from. He pauses holding his lantern a little higher to get a better look at Bev. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“Well. . .I live here so. . .you’re wrong!” she protests.

“Make sure the others are ok, there’s something I gotta do.”

Bev glides off her perch to another little branch closer to him. The flame in the lantern distracts her. There’s something about the way shadows twirl around on the inside that captures her full attention. It's like there’s shadows inside the flame itself. Maybe its just her bird brain fucking with her.

“I can’t find Richie!” protests Bev right when Mike makes an attempt to leave her behind. “He’s gone.”

His grip tightens on the lantern and he looks back at her. “Just go home, Bev.”

“What? Are you going to be some big damn hero right now? What’s going on?”

Mike sighs. He looks at the strange flame twisting inside the lantern and chances are, he’s not about to look up or anywhere else for some time. His whole body grows tense while watching the shadows inside the flame play around with one another. “It told me there was one way to save my dad that if I kept this flame alight, I’d never lose him and if it were to go out then that means. . .”

Neither Mike nor Bev finish the sentence. At least, Mike looks at her as she shivers stuck in some brambles. With one hand, Mike blocks Bev from staring at the lantern for too long. Their eyes meet.

“It-It’s older than us, older than this world, older than wherever we are. It came here so long ago in some sort of meteor-astroid, impacting this planet and doing more damage than we could’ve ever dreamed. My father tried to find stories all about him and then somehow. . .I think he found too much because here we are. . .” Mike trails away here. Him and Bev are still staring at one another. He’s careful to raise the lantern up a bit more for Bev to get a much better look at it. “I think it’s soul or something is in here.”

“We can stop It,” Bev states. Somehow she knows this, she knows this deep down inside her fluttering little bird heart. “We can.”

This gets a nod from Mike because he knows it’s true. He’s holding tight to something more important than any of them. “We should call the others. You should call the others.” He shoots a glance between the trees. A moment of silence allows them to hear some whispering tra-la-las. Out there the shadows dance but only one of them sings. “What if I distract It?”

“Sounds like a terrible idea.”

“A terrible idea that just may work?”

Being a bird takes away from the venomous sarcasm paint across her face because really, really Mike. But really, Mike side steps about to move his way towards the floating tra-la-las. He’s keeping an eye on Bev. She doesn’t flinch from her perch there.

“Don’t you dare. . .” Bev spits the words out at him.

“But hear me out. . .” Mike trails away allowing for some hesitation, a whole dramatic pause that gets Bev to roll her eyes. This is too much. “It thinks I’ll keep this light shining on so. . .”

Another pause, but Bev realizes this one is just for her. She needs to finish what he started, “So I need to go find the others so we can stick together.”

Mike smiles and nods. She gets it, at least. This is a stand he’ll first need to take on his own but he’s not really _alone_. The tra-la-las change to a wavering song, a ghost of something lost in between the crooked branches. Words that neither of them can make out but maybe it’s all because their brains are instead focused on what needs to happen next. Mike doesn’t wait around much longer to chat with Bev although _chat_ isn’t the right word for the plans they’re coming up with.

When Mike looks back, Bev’s already gone. A branch slices down, its fingers slashing open his cheek. Blood tickles his face, he doesn’t touch his cheek though. There’s so many stories his father told him during nights spent at the hospital. Him beside his father’s bed, sometimes even holding his father’s hand whenever nobody’s looking because it’s weird.

Stories of an egg hunt ripped open by a building exploding, heads found in trees the following days.

Mike almost trips over some roots coming close to losing his lantern, it swings dangerously back and forth in his grip. He keeps his fingers wrapped around it tight as he slowly rises up making more sense of the words floating around all the trees. In front of him, there’s a crooked sign falling from a tree: Pennywise the Dancing Clown. But Mike holds still. Blood still tickles his face as he waits, holding his breath and hearing It sing somewhere out there in the night while those little black turtles scramble at his toes and heels.

_Come, wayward souls, and wander through the darkness, there is a light, for the lost and the meek._

Instead of keeping a stance, Mike’s knees scrape across the ground letting the music play out while he struggles to find broken branches, no not branches, sticks, sticks, he needs sticks of edelwood to burn in the lantern to keep it shining on. He’s here to act and act as long as possible while hoping the rest would arrive in time to save lives.

_Sorrow and fear are easily forgotten when you submit to the soil of earth. . ._

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Mike sputters as he scrounges around for anything, something to help out the situation. He sets the lantern down on a flat rock. Then to the lantern with sticks in hand, Mike stares at it and talks right at the little flame. “I think-I think this will help you. Right? Right? I’m sure, I’m sure, I’m sure of. . .”

“Michael, I knew you would come.” It speaks up, somehow mocking Mike with each vowel. 

Mike does his best to look at the ground. Focus on the sticks. Focus on the past. The past though is just a tiny bit too fuzzy, he can’t quite reach out and grab it but the stories all live around him, stories from his father who may or may not be gone now and all because he bought into some lie from a shadow in the woods. It moves closer to him not that Mike can quite make out where. It's as if all the shadows come together, growing taller and taller as he shrinks into the ground with a single light in the night.

Come soon. Come soon. Come soon. Mike thinks this so loud, he wants it to be loud enough for Bev, Ben, Bill, Eddie, and Stan to hear, but also he wants even Richie to hear--if he’s still alive. That means It would be able to hear him, too, though. A bad idea if they want to keep some sort of element of surprise. Maybe he could just spit on the lantern, see if that can kill It. If only that’s all it takes but what if, what if, what if he’s wrong and his father is alive and well just hanging out inside the lantern until some other science or magic can bring him back. 

“I have something for you, Michael.”

Something about this kicks his heart into a much faster pace. Still, Mike is crouching low into the ground with those stupid little black turtles sprinting away and _sprint_ is in fact the correct word of choice, each black turtle moves so fast. Now’s the time to rise up so Mike slowly stands and looks up except he’s left speechless, not because of It but because of what It meant by _I have something for you_

Mike snaps his attention to It, his mouth struggling to find the correct word or words there are so many words. He gasps and can’t find them until he can and blurts, “What have you done?!”


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't looking so hot for Richie Tozier.

# II.

**Earlier**

Richie is pretty sure he’s made of stupid ideas like instead of his parents bringing him into this world the normal way, they dug around and built him up with each bad idea they ever had. Of course, they’re all ideas they never acted on forcing Richie to act on impulse. Even Eddie got it, and Eddie’s probably made up of stupid ideas, too, just not as many, which is why he’s so short. Anyway, it’s something Eddie would tell him. _Shut up, Richie! You’re made up of stupid ideas!_ , he can hear Eddie’s voice in his head, but Bill, too. His sister would say the same, as well, but make it sound fake nice. If his mom were around, she’d give him a sad smile then touch his cheek. She always followed this up with some generic motivational phrase:

_Hang in there, Rich._.

_Walk the talk. Take the initiative and lead the way. You can make a difference._

_Some people dream of success. . .while others wake up and work hard at it._

_To stand apart from the competition, you must first stand together as a team._

What bogus bullshit.

Richie shoves his way through some thorny bushes ignoring the fact they attack him, all while it’s getting real cold and it’s not like he has a sweatshirt anymore to really warm up. Instead, he stumbles out into a clearing to find himself alone again. He’s got a honeycomb in one hand and a stick he used to collect spider webs making it look like cotton candy.

“Hey?! I got something for you. . .” He’s yelling at a whole lot of nothing. There’s still snow flurries falling around him, big chunky ones, too. Richie waits for the shadows to move. He uses his elbow to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I took some creative sciences on finding a golden comb and silver thread!”

Not a single sound. The snow is all quiet as it falls, creating a light frosting on the ground. No more leaves fall and Eddie’s gone. The others are, too. Bev’s not around. But, he can really only blame himself for not having Eddie or Stan around anymore. Richie goes to drop the sticky honeycomb he dug out from some lonely hive. He lifts one finger from the honeycomb, so close to dropping it. And another as if he’s counting the seconds. It asked for these things but now It is gone so he might as well throw it all down and stomp on the stuff to see what It had to say about that.

A little black turtle scurried past him, startling him, but he holds it together. He squeezes the honeycomb tighter, cracks are running through it as he also hangs tight to the branch with his ‘silver thread.’ More little black turtles come running out. It’s not even like they’re being chased by something but trained to be on display at a show. Some faded scrap of paper rests on their back. Richie tilts his head attempting to make out what it says something-something-something dancing.

“RICHIE?!”

“Eddie?!” Richie snaps his attention up losing both things he’s hanging onto. Up ahead he can hear some movement. 

“RICHIE!?

There’s more light where Richie stands, some moonlight now that the sun is so close to setting for the day. “Over here! EDS!” There’s the ruffling in the woods and Eddie still shouting for his name. “OVER HERE! DON’T BE WEIRD. . .!” _I’m not going over there_ is such a fleeting thought racing through his mind but Richie starts to make his way. “EDDIE?”

“RICHARD TRASHMOUTH TOZIER! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”

Richie rolls his eyes and picks up his pace heading after Eddie. He leaves his prizes behind to be carried away by those weird ass black turtles. They push and pull the honeycomb and spiderwebs away from the scene like Richie was never even there. Already snow flurries are daring to cover up the footprints he leaves behind. The only other reference to him ever existing at all out there in the Unknown.

“EDDIE. . .! Just-JUST. . .WHERE ARE _YOU_?! I’m coming to you! Wait up!”

Darkness sneaks up on him and he squints hoping to figure out where Eddie stands. Splintered moonlight breaks through some of the trees and the rustling is gone along with Eddie yelling out his Richies for him. Richie hesitates, a stick cracks underneath his toes, it’s more like a gunshot sounding off out there, marking his precise location.

“Shit.”

Up ahead, darkness stirs, forcing Richie to take in his surroundings, there’s not much insight with what little moonlight he has, and his glasses are too thick to really consider peripheral vision.

“I lost your shit. . .” Richie informs the shadow, those fucking turtles stole it, too. “Hope it wasn’t too important.”

The shadow moves closer to him while sticking close to chubby tree trunks. It chuckles.“Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear.”

Richie rolls his eyes and somewhat turns to face what he can’t even see. There’s little sticks popping from the ground with red leaves, almost looking like poison ivy out to get him. It's everywhere. Some of the leaves even tickle his ankles. He squints at the leaves before looking back at the shadow. “I’m not even afraid of you.”

The chuckling comes to an abrupt stop. “You will be.”

Richie tries to kick some of the creeping leaves from his foot, there’s more than he realized and he’s pretty sure the trees are moving. He’s hoping to come up with some retort when the shadows laughs real loud. It tosses its head back with a laugh full of mockery and danger. It snaps its head back glaring at Richie who can just make out its eyes. Both are glowing a bright white and are locked onto him.

“Aw fuck me!”

“Beep beep Richie!” It lunges at him, fingers more like talons reaching out for him.

Richie snatches a branch from one of the taller trees beside him and slams it into his attacker. Only the branch splinters upon impact and shadowy talons scrap across his cheeks and throat. Worse than when he pushed his way through the thorns. His feet no longer touch the ground. He can feel those itching leaves still winding their way across his ankles and on his legs. As best as he can manage, he tries to kick out and get the shadow as it holds him right on up in the air.

“Fuck you! You sloppy bitch!” Richie tries for another kick but even without being on the ground, one of those tree bits catches his foot. Actually, both his feet are caught. He stares down rather than up at It who hangs onto him. The branches are crawling up on him trying to bring him back, back down into or onto the ground.


	3. III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bev lets Eddie and the other Losers know that they might still have a chance to save Richie.

# III.

Bev struggles to fly straight through snow flurries. One after another explodes across her face, her beak piercing through them with ice crystal getting caught in her eyes. She tries her best to blink them away, but it’s not working. All of her is chilled deep into her bones and it’s not like birds have big bones. They got small hallow ones to help with flight. Yet she goes on bursting forward almost hitting a window as she attempts to land inside the tavern. One the other side a woman cleans it only to hiss at her. Something along the lines about no animals allowed so instead she fights the wind with a whole lot of energy to hunt down the boys. 

There’s a bunch of windows up there. She looks in each realizing _no_ , _no_ , _no_ up until she finds them hanging out inside by some fire and eating food like nothing is wrong in the world. Bev pecks at the glass ready to drill straight through it if need be, but while the others are eating, Eddie’s hanging off to the side on a bed not paying any sort of attention to the world. Instead, he’s staring at a wall but her gently rap, rap, rapping at their tavern’s window.

Eddie turns to his side looking directly at her for what feels like an eternity before he shouts, “BEVERLY!” He doesn’t get up though. Instead, Eddie remains tucked into the bed looking at Bev like she’s more mirage than reality.

Stan, Ben, and Bill all snap their attention to the window. Both Ben and Bill rush to the window to get it open although they struggle for a bonus eternity before Bev gets in. The fire melts all the ice built up around her bones and heart. Bev shakes off droplets embracing the warmth. It steals her thoughts for just a moment when she remembers what she’s here for.

“Richie’s in trouble!” she shouts.

“We know,” Stan says but nobody adds a word. He casts a glance at the ground not able to really look at any of them. “There isn’t anything we can do.”

“But there is. . .!” Bev yelps. _There has to be. . ._

Eddie climbs out of bed looking from her to each other guy in the room like somebody is going to answer some sort of question for him. Right then and there he’s just all frantic panic. To be honest, his thoughts are stuck, circling around just Richie. Richie’s gone. It has Richie. Somewhere out there Richieis dying. And there’s nothing they can do about Richie being out there about to die. Richie’s not coming back. From every year of his life, he learned a bit of first aid to help himself or hide truths from his mother. It meant nothing, really. If Richie were around, maybe he could save him but Richie’s already gone.

“We-We-We h-h-have to do something!” Bill shouts, he’s pretty loud for them being inside and close to each other. “R-Right? Wh-What if we’re n-n-next?”

Some silence strikes the room until Stan speaks up. “No, Bill! No or you can go, but I don’t know him or any of you. I don’t want to die! I’m going to go home.”

Still, Eddie stands there looking more ready for answers said to him than comments or questions, but he finds his voice. He looks at Stan. “You don’t know where your home is.” He looks over at Bill. Figures, Bill would be the one who wants to lead a charge. Bill who got a mixtape from Richie when he didn’t. Bill who started playing at the arcade with Richie when he couldn’t because his mother said she hated the kids he hung out with. They’re no good. 

“H-He’s right, you know,” Bill comes right back at Stan.

Stan groans. “I _know_.” He continues to stand in the same spot looking at Bev who hasn’t had a chance to say much. In his pocket, there are those scissors. Discussion picks up and he’s stuck there touching them, the little bird shape ones to clip away wings from Bev, but to make her human again. Stan sneaks a good look at them before looking over at Eddie. “Can I talk. . .to you in silence?”

“In silence?” Eddie wrinkles his nose.

Stan rolls his eyes. “I meant, in private.” He looks over at Bill, Bev, and Ben. “We’ll meet you outside.”

It’s enough for them to start moving towards Richie, wherever he is. Bill and Ben head out the door while Bev remains a little longer. Stan gives her one real long look hoping she’ll fly up sooner or later and at least she does, she catches his drift without him needing to spare a word or two. A single feather falls from her wing, it glides from her wing and to the ground. She’s gone with the others.

More silence fills in the moment. Eddie looks over at Stan without commenting on why they’re gonna talk in private. Rather than make the moment last longer than need be, Stan walks over to Eddie, he pulls the scissors out and places them in Eddie’s palm.

Eddie looks up from it. “What-What is this? Scissors?”

Stan shrugs. “It can be anything you want it to be, I guess.”

“Ok, but really, what is this?”

He gets a smile from Stan, his typical sad smile. A Stan smile. It almost feels as if they’ve known each other for such a long time like he knew a whole lot more facts about Stan all this time. Already Stan is backing up about to head out the door. “It’s more for Bev, if you want. To turn her back into a human.” Stan lifts up both his hands for Eddie to see. “All hands on deck and we’re already missing one.”

“Missing one?” Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Wait. What?”

Stan shrugs, his smile is a little happier this time around, happier than the typical Stan smile as he points at Eddie’s arm. It’s broken. Right. His arm is broken.

“Ok, but. . .! I still have a hand.”

Stan’s gone. He heard that probably on his way out. Didn’t stop him. This left Eddie there with a lot of decisions weighing down on him. The most important though is Richie. Richie is gone. It has Richie. But Mike is gone, too. It might have Mike. That’s two down and gone. Meaning, they’ll really need a lot of help they can get. Before following Stan, Eddie looks out the window, everybody is waiting with a lantern of their own. It’s not as bright as Mike. Eddie hides the scissors as he makes his way out to them.

As soon as he leaves the tavern, he yells, “Bev. . .?”

Bev flies off Bill’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“We can catch up. I need. . .I need to talk to you about something. . .in private.” Thanks to Stan, he almost said silence, too.

“Um. . .ok?” Bev returns to perch on Bill’s shoulder who has a huge smile while Ben gives the two some sort of undefinable look. One that is probably full of jealousy because let’s be real, Eddie knows what it’s like to hang around being all jealous of Bill. Turns out, Ben is also the last to go, he’s watching Bev as Bev watches him. Before Eddie can open his mouth to start talking again, Bev blurts, “I’M SORRY! I’m sorry! Really! I am!”

Eddie stares at her thinking of Stan’s warning, they’ll need all hands on deck and they’re already missing one. Stan left looking more morose than usual. A weird statement because the kid looks like he’s the saddest one in all the universe. For some reason, Eddie’s stuck on that train of thought. It’s better than being stuck on Richie who’s somewhere out dying in between tree trunks.

It’s Bev who brings him back. “Sooooo what’s wrong?”

Eddie hands the scissors to her. “I think you should have this.”

But she doesn’t have fingers to hold on tight to the scissors. Instead, she looks at them and looks back up at Eddie then at the scissors again. This means the world. It means she can have her whole world back. She doesn’t need any of them to be herself again but that’s a full-on lie because she also needs them to be her again. She needs them to become Beverly Marsh again because that means she was never alone in this world. 

“Eddie. . .” Bev tries to find all the right words for the whole situation. Her brain is all scrambled and small, not able to pull together the pieces she needs to get it. “We have to save Richie.”

“I know, but. . .” Eddie trails off looking off at the trees, they’re so dark and full of snow. At least, it’s stopped. “I can’t.”

Bev nods. “But you can.” 

Bev grabs the scissors with her beak and flies off leaving Eddie by himself and having to catch up with the others. Bev left no parting words with which way he needed to go, but he closes his eyes, breathing in deep. Some off thought reassures him that he can navigate his own way to get there. To find Richie. To find It. To find Mike. To find the others. Eddie exhales, counting the seconds. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Four.

He starts to walk pretending it means something to him each time he says _You’re braver than you think_. 

Five. 

Richie said it once to him but he couldn’t fish through his thoughts to remember why Richie said it to him. _You’re braver than you think_. Both so in and out of character for him, Richie’s the one who’s always scared anyhow. Eddie keeps moving along understanding it’s the right direction. When Richie said it, he was talking about him coming out to his mother about knowing she gave him gazebos over actual pills because he was never sick, it was all in her head yet it hurt the same. It hurt him either way.

This hurts worse.

Six.

Seven. 

Nothing can stop Eddie now. He hears himself walking hoping soon he’ll hear the others up ahead. Instead, footsteps approach him. _Please be Richie_ , but it’s not going to be. He opens his eyes to find Bev standing there looking more like Molly Ringwald than a bird especially seeing she’s back to being human. Bev smiles at him. Eddie’s eyes widen and he tries to look away from her but she’s reaching out to him. She rests those little scissors in the palm of his hand.

Eight.

“He’s not far,” Bev states and she’s walking in the same direction Eddie chose.

Nine.

Eddie is stuck looking at the scissors not hearing anything but leaves scraping across the ground and Bev’s soft footfall. He makes sure he stays close to her as they break on through the woods to a clearing and Eddie almost shouts. Before he can squeak out a word, Bev slaps a hand over his mouth. It doesn’t even help. Yeah, he’s quiet so nothing can find him there but his eyes need to be covered, not his mouth. Richie is sitting in the middle of the clearing, he looks almost normal other than branches from a tree twisting all around him, maybe some have even impaled him. Red tinted leaves creep across his skin looking more like poison ivy out for blood. There’s no sign of friend or enemy, just Richie hanging amongst tree roots and branches, they hold him up. His body appears to be limp and his glasses are on the ground, not helping him out. If he’s dead, he won’t be needing them anyway.

Good thing Bev’s strong, she holds Eddie back. His heart plummets, it's pounding in his stomach and he knows by the tightness of his chest he’ll need his inhaler. He needs an inhaler but there’s no inhaler to save him. He also needs Richie but there’s maybe no more Richie to live with.

Ten.


	4. IV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chances are, Richie is gonna die forcing the Losers to take one last stand in the Unknown.

# IV.

Mike isn’t too sure if he’s going to make it. There’s a lot of blood. A lot of his blood. The soil is soaking it up and he tries to sit up or maybe he put thought into sitting up. Some tree root stabbed right into him leaving him in theory good for dead. It left him there on the ground with too many questions at hand and his lantern flickering right at his fingertips, mocking him. He kept both hands folded over the wound while eyeing the lantern. Of course, he was never going to save his dad and all the trees crouching over him are dead kids.

Kids all dead because of him. He traded one life for so many and even then there was no telling if that life was even saved.

“MIKE!” 

This time, he does look up realizing everybody else is at the scene including a redhead girl he never met. She doesn’t look at him as she almost trips and falls face first. Behind her is Eddie who doesn’t even notice her near faceplant and instead makes the situation worse as he pushes her out of his way to get toward Richie. But Eddie even almost falls over with the redhead girl being the one to save him even though he tried to shove her out of the way. Silence strangles their entrance but Stan is breaking from the group with Bill and Ben.

“MIKE!” Stan sprints toward him first shouting as he comes overlooking at the mess that Mike is but helps him get up, which probably isn’t the best first aid tactic. Stan looks at the blood bubbling between his fingers while Bill and Ben are stuck there, staring in shock. “Mike? Say something!”

“The-The trees. . .” Mike spits out. He doesn’t finish up what he has to say because there’s a lot more important things to say.

Meanwhile, Bev continues her best to support Eddie who tears away from her, not able to make sense of what is happening. Trees don’t spring out of the soil and trees don’t grow inside kids or kill them in this way. Instead, trees kill on accident whenever they fell over in storms. 

Eddie finds balance again as he shoves Bev away to grab onto Richie, he goes for a hug but doesn’t hug because that’s weird but he can’t figure out how to drag Richie from where he hangs, there’s even leaves sticking out from underneath his nails and it looks as if branches are trying to make their way through all his blood veins. Richie’s glasses crunch under his feet, one lens but not both so Eddie grabs them not holding onto Richie. He puts the glasses back onto Richie while he’s just hanging there. Dead to the world but not necessarily actually dead or dead to him

Behind him stands Bev. She watches Eddie touch Richie’s wrist thinking about taking his pulse but underneath his skin he’s sure, he’s sure sticks are underneath skin, black instead of blue. When nothing happens, Eddie hugs Richie, sobbing as he tears at leaves and branches that bind him, he manages to get Richie down. Branches pop sounding causing Eddie to hesitate because he thinks they’re loud bone snaps like he’s about to break Richie into a hundred pieces. At least, Bev helps Eddie drag Richie to the ground, he’s unconscious or dead and Eddie’s not sure how to do first aid for somebody who has leaves and branches tearing through their skin. There’s a lot of blood everywhere and now a lot of blood on Bev and Eddie as they pull him free.

One of Richie’s shoes is off to the side, the sole torn free, the rubber lies off to the side.

“Richie? Rich?! Richard?!” Eddie is screaming at Richie, he holds his face, brushing twigs from his dark hair and throwing them to the side. “What-What-WHAT’S wrong with him? What’s wrong with him?!” Eddie screams in Bev’s face but she’s in shock and tries to shake her head in response. “Why won’t he wake up? WHY WON’T. . .” Eddie’s voice cuts off and he looks back at Richie’s slack face, he cups Richie’s face, not even able to pay attention to the rest of the world. If anybody were to attack, they’d die. Become trees, all crunched up to light up some lantern for whatever purpose It wants. “RICHARD TRASHMOUTH TOZIER! I’M SORRY! SORRY! RICHIE! I’M SORRY!”

Even with Eddie cupping Richie’s face, Bev shoulders Eddie to the side a little and kisses Richie on the cheek and sits up. Eddie gawks at her. “What? I thought. . .fairy tales?”

“Well! You missed!” retorts Eddie and he elbows Bev from his side, she makes sure she moves out of the way. Eddie clings to Richie, he fixes his glasses like that matters, seeing with eyes closed and all. But people usually died with eyes wide open. What the fuck did that mean? What the fuck did any of this mean? Some movement is close to them. Figures, they’re not even alone. Eddie plucks a bloody leaf out from underneath one of Richie’s fingernails. “R-R-Ri. . .Richie?” 

Some desperate thought squiggles around his intestines, Eddie leans forward, his forehead touches Richie and he quickly pecks him on the mouth before jerking back. More because Richie knees him in the stomach then actual embarrassment. Although embarrassment heats up his face. Eddie snaps back, his stomach hurting from the strike, embarrassment, fear, anxiety, and-and-and. . .doesn’t matter because Richie moves more. 

Richie moves around a whole lot more. His eyes snap open as he starts to cough, he kicks at Eddie again forcing Eddie to let go as he rolls over hacking away. Leaves slick with bloody spit catch his lips and fall on the ground. Eddie puts an awkward hand on his back, the sort of mom move he's seen before. He pats Richie’s back but makes sure he’s out of the way as Richie’s coughing turns to vomit.

“Is he-Is he. . .?” Mike asks, he’s dangling between Stan and Ben while Bill stands taller than them, but slouching. His face his whiter than the moon, all color blanched from it as he stares at Richie. “Is he-he going to be ok?”

No response ‘cause Richie’s still vomiting, he’s choking on a stick he struggles to grab onto and pull out of his mouth. There’s flakes of bark and leaves all caught up in it. Eddie wrinkles his nose while sitting there trying not to breathe because if he does then he’ll start puking too. One breath or sniff and he’d taste the puke. Already Bev looks pretty green and if she throws up, they’ll all throw up.

While holding his breath, Eddie pats Richie’s back. Both his hands are buried under some snow and crinkly leaves. Richie heaves on some air before looking at his hand. Panic causes his body to tense up more and he falls backward trying to claw leaves out from underneath his nails but then what if his nails all start to pop off. That’s kind of torture bullshit you see on the screen with bamboo used to pluck them off.

“Richie! Richie! RICHIE!” Eddie screams at Richie and grabs onto his face. “It’s my fault! I’m sorry! This is my fault! Richie! Richard! _Please_!”

Richie stares at him still clawing at his hands, they’re slick with blood and leaves. With the crook of his arm, he pushes his glasses back into place still staring at Eddie. “What the fuck was that?” he blurts. “Did you-Did you just kiss me?”

Eddie hangs onto Richie, his hand rests on his thigh as he quickly shakes his head. “What? Me? No. No! I-I was doing CPR!”

Richie squints at him, he’s kneeling there and looks at Eddie’s hand on his thigh then back up at Eddie’s face. “Yeah, but you did it wrong!”

“Wh-Wh-What like you can do better?”

“Yeah. . .Yeah!” retorts Richie. 

Except Bev comes into Richie’s line of sight. “. . .Hi. . .”

“What the fuck? Who invited Molly Ringwald?” Richie stares at her.

“We should really get out of here,” comments Bev. “I’d rather not die.”

“But. . .”

“Oh. Bev,” explains Eddie without much more words. He shows the bird shape scissors to Richie while helping him up to his feet. The moment Richie is standing up straight again, Eddie throws his arms around him not caring about blood or vomit or anything because Richie’s ok. Maybe ok, that’s probably still to be determined. Richie hugs him burying his face into Eddie’s shoulder.

Still, Bev is standing around. “Ok, but really! We should go! Before like. . .”

“Like what?” It butts in. Those shadows peel together and rise up above them, wide white eyes watch all of them standing around there. Ben and Stan supporting Mike while Eddie and Richie hang onto each other. Nobody’s got Bev or Bill as they watch the shadows amount to something. If there was any chance of escaping that chance is all gone.

“Ah fuck,” groans Richie.

Eddie clings a little tighter to the scissors. They can cut and stab at enemies not just fabric and paper.

The shadow twists and turns through trees. One of them appears to wear shoes while another has fabric caught in its bark. 

Mike looks down at the lantern, it waits there and the shadow never closes in. “His soul. . .” Mike trails away not finishing the thought out loud: _It’s in the lantern_. 

It winds itself around a tree closer to the lantern, everybody studies these movements. It chuckles. “What? You’ve been grinding up souls for years.”

Ben’s grip on Mike loosens.

Mike stares at the lantern and attention turns to him.

“I suppose after all this time, you don’t care for your father anymore. All you needed was to burn him up, oil for the lantern.” It gestures towards Richie who doesn’t add a smart ass comment to the moment. 

Both Stan and Ben let go of Mike who even as he’s bleeding a ton, struggles to make his way towards the lantern. Everybody takes in his movement, his limp, he struggles to stay balanced, his everything as he reaches down for the lantern and plucks it from the ground turning to face everybody but It. Instead, It looms behind him with such empty eyes, all shadow and not much else.

There’s a beat of silence, Eddie pulls a twig from Richie’s hair and Richie looks at him rather than Mike and It. No words pass between them but boy does Eddie come close to saying something about how they finally found something to really get the trashmouth to shut up. Then again, he’s been around Richie long enough in such unknown settings to know how scared he can be.

The whole time Mike is staring at the lantern, it leaves little black spots dancing around his mind. There’s his dad again, lying in a hospital bed, watching him waste away from cancer while his dad tells him all about the past to build up stories to write down and share with the historical society.

A ribbit breaks in the moment and Richie’s frog hops beside him, a branch rolls out from the frog’s feet. Richie stares at the animal blurting like they’re not all about to perish, “Jason Thundercunt made it!”

“ _Richie_! You can’t call the frog that!” snaps Eddie.

“ENOUGH!” booms It. It flings its arms into the air flaying roots from the ground. They whip out striking everybody but Mike. Knocking each person down. When Richie hits the ground, he goes to grab onto his frog. “You all have a choice here. . .!” Those roots dance around, whipping through the air making it hard for Ben, Stan, and Bill to get up. Bev looks over at Richie and Eddie. It’s Eddie who doesn’t have a problem, but Richie is stuck, on the ground, he kneels there coughing again. He coughs up leaves, the same as earlier. 

“Rich. . .Richie!” Eddie moves a little closer to him, Bev makes her first move towards them. She gets up in an attempt to join them. “Rich. . .”

It grows, grows a whole lot, peeling back more shadows from the trees. Among them, there’s fingers reaching out from the roots of another tree and one of them has the scraps of a plastic yellow raincoat. Bill stares at that one.

“He will soon become part of my forest,” It continues.

Bev glares at It. “We won’t let that happen! Right?”

Nobody responds to her call to fight. Richie spits up more leaves slick with blood. Eddie half stands and half kneels there with a hand on Richie’s shoulder. Stan looks back at them, his muscles are taut and just fear distorts his expression. Ben takes a few steps back, his eyes are on It and he is careful to not trip along the way. Bill tilts his head to the side distracted still by the plastic scrapes of a yellow raincoat. He even starts to move towards it, ducking underneath roots that lash towards his face making a bad attempt at slicing his cheek wide open. This leaves Mike standing unable to look away from the lantern, the light inside it dwindles, it couldn’t last much longer.

“Then I won’t let that. . .happen?” Bev corrects her earlier statement all nervous as she looks around.

Richie’s frog even hangs out by Richie, his little frog foot resting on the back of Richie’s hand. That large stick the frog brought over is still in sight. Again, Richie uses the crook of his arm to wipe his face while he stares at it trying to think through what all could be a weapon. The same goes for Eddie who is armed with a pair of magical scissors.

Still, It hangs around them as a shadow while looking right at Bev, its eyes burn straight through Bev. Fuck, she should’ve have said much of anything there. She still needs to get used to having hands and human feet after being a bird for so long.

“What if we make a deal?” It continues.

But out between the trees, Bill stands there with some of a raincoat in hand. He looks back at them. He trembles while keeping a hold of it. “You hurt. . .G-G-G-Georgie?” 

The comment goes either unheard or ignored because It keeps a focus on Bev, Eddie, and Richie. Still, Ben does his best to step backwards, closer to Bev.

“I can put his spirit in the lantern. . .” It takes another stab at saying what it wants to say.

“I’d prefer not that,” Richie gasps between some coughing. “I’d lose all the important parts of me.”

“But you’ll die,” Eddie mentions.

Richie just gives him some look and Eddie’s fingers hug those scissors.

“I can just take him or-or-or I can take all of you if you don’t let us be.” It ushers the attention back to Richie who despite no longer coughing stays on his knees looking at his frog but really the branch at his fingertips. “I can tell you the rest of the way home where you can live long happy lives and you will live to grow and thrive and lead happy lives until old age takes you back to the weeds. Well, all but two of you. _Him_ for the lantern, he’ll die anyway and a woodsman. . .or woods _woman_ to keep it lit so he will live on the inside.”

Eddie let’s go of Richie and starts to move away causing nobody to stir, Richie the most as he watches Eddie make his way towards all those shadows. Only his unbroken hand is raised in the air, in a sort of surrender because somebody’s got to take one for the team and it looks like Eddie’s the one. Rather than blabbering on like usual, all Richie can croak out is, “EDS?”

“Sorry. . .” Still Eddie moves, he looks at Richie rather than It but his goal is clear.

“Don’t do this,” Bev whispers.

“Sorry, Richie, that it’s got to be this way. Sorry that I stoke the mixtape and gave it to Bill, sorry that I made you panic and we ended up here, sorry that I dragged you into all of this and now-and now. . .” Eddie’s so close to being gone. He turns and faces It instead. Mike clutches the lantern as if he can steal it away from any of them. “And now. . .you’re going to die and. . .I have to kill whatever the fuck this is. . .” Eddie uses his free hand to flail around pointing at It who doesn’t flinch at these words. Maybe It doesn’t realize what this means because Eddie throws himself into those shadows with the scissors in his broken hand, hidden there but he manages to switch them and starts stabbing them into It.

Mike screams, swinging the lantern at It, letting the flame spiral through the air striking the shadows. The light reveals distraught faces made of wood creating It. So many mouths peeled back in sheer terror as It flings hands up, fingers made of sharpened sticks, the whole creature if flammable but the lantern fire doesn’t take. Instead, the flame lights up some of the ground around them as It stumbles backward in between trees.

Eddie still holds those scissors ready again, but Richie makes his move. He grabs his frog friend off the ground and the branch before lunging into what is a battle of sorts. Richie flings the frog at Its face, the frog arcs forward trying to latch onto Its face as Richie joints Eddie’s side. He’s still all wobbles and not quite able to stand up straight but nonetheless, Richie starts to beat It with the branch as Eddie starts to use those scissors stabbing at It. Stan finds rocks then throws them at It right before Bev and Ben grab branches going in for the attack. So does Bill. He uses a rock in an attempt to bludgeon It.

“FUCK YOU. . .Whatever-The-Fuck-You-Are!” Richie screams, still swinging the branch. 

“Fucking die!” Eddie screams. 

The others are screaming and It swats at them. Roots whip around. One catches Stan on the side of the face knocking him over. Bev loses her balance as does Ben. Bill continues his attack but It swings out, lashing out a long spindling hand. Richie and Bill leap back out of the way and Mike ducks, he throws himself into the ground almost landing in the little fire he started. He stares at those flames. No dad in sight because he never was there. Instead, all the trees and all the burning, it’s all the lost souls that concoct It. The faces full of fear strewn across Its body.

Eddie though, Eddie doesn’t move out of the way. Without anybody around, he takes this chance trying to think up where Its heart might be and tries to stab his scissors straight through it but pain splinters his thoughts. That and a lot of shouting. Instead, the scissors fall. Little bird-shaped scissors, not even bloody. Tree sap soaks them looking like some sort of dark sludge. Eddie crashes into the ground looking at his hands startled by how they’re the ones covered in blood and not his weapon. Not at all. Just tree sap there and blood on him, which means. . .

“EDS!” Richie’s hanging onto him. “Eds?! What the actual fuck!”

But Eddie tries to brush him off. They’re fighting whatever-the-fuck and there’s no time for stupid words or stupid jokes that aren’t even funny but hey’ll find them funny for some reason or another and laugh or roll his eyes saying _shut up, Richie_ like they aren't funny at all. Except Eddie pauses piecing together the pain and the blood and the look of sheer horror on Richie’s face, he fucking got stabbed. Eddie looks over at It realizing Mike is there trying to build the fire more while Stan, Ben, Bill, and Bev swing branches or rocks at It and even the frog makes the best attempt a frog can make in battle.

“Hey? Hey! Eds! You can-You can hear me right?!” And Eddie looks at Richie who is making the pain worse by shaking him. Fuck, no, that’s not right. He’ll never pass a first aid test, but Eddie doesn’t think this is the time to tell him. “EDS?!”

Eddie swipes at Richie’s face trying to push him away to gain enough space to breathe again. “Stop-Stop calling me, Eds!” Although he doesn’t mean this to be his words. There are probably other better things to say. Something a lot better but as he tries to push Richie’s face from him just to get a deep breath in, he finds darkness instead feeling Richie hold him a whole lot tighter squeezing air out of his lungs like he could be strangled on accident by a vicious hug.

“R-R-R-Richie!” Bill shouts from wherever they are.

Richie rises back to his feet after trying to lay Eddie out on the ground as best as he could. He’s got the branch in his hand. He holds onto that along with those scissors Eddie had, full of tree sludge. He marches over to Mike using the flames he’s fanning to light up the branch before he sprints after It, screaming because he’s not even sure what to say or do other than scream because he’s not sure if Eddie’s dead or alive and they gotta all come out of this together. Mike uses this example and starts to try his best to fan flames closer to It. Bev lights a branch and the rest follow using fire to fight off It who shields its face from either the light or the heat. All of them screaming as loud as they can like their voices can banish It from this place.

Its heel catches a rock and falls backward through the woods and out of sight. They stand there armed with whatever doubles as a weapon. None of them look to see what happened. Instead, It snaps up in what appears to be a sitting position. Pieces of bark are breaking off its body, those faces are in pain rather than terror or whatever. It looks at them whispering something they can’t make out before falling back into the ground, bursting into what appears to be millions of pieces of bark. Shattered pieces floating off like ash or snow caught on the rain. Already enough ash is falling around them, burning for a split second before feeling like a whole lot of nothing.

Richie throws the branch in the direction of It like something else will happen. The dried out leaves catch fire, not by much. They smolder thanks to the snow from earlier soaking them somewhat through. Instead, he comes back and looks at Eddie who is sprawled out, blood, there is so much blood everywhere. Probably some from him and some from Eddie, which also sounds like a whole great other way to die, and if Eddie were conscious he’d be sure to tell Richie all those gross details.

“Hey! Hey! Eds? Eddie?! Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie takes Eddie’s shoulders shaking him. “Wake the fuck up! You’re gonna die and your mom and me are gonna be fucking pissed! You can’t just die like that, it’s real fucking rude! Eds?! EDDIE?!”

Only his frog ribbits and Richie thinks of CPR.

“Good idea, Jason Thundercunt.” Richie leans forward, his face hovering over Eddie’s but he freezes up. He pushes some hair from Eddie’s face. “Eddie? Eds? Edward? Edward Kaspbrak? Eddie, my love?” Just none of those are really working anyway. He leans forward “performing” CPR. 

It’s really more of a quick kiss and waiting for something to happen but nothing happens. Richie closes his eyes trying not to cry. Whatever happens, he can’t stop sobbing. Behind him he hears Bev saying something to him. Something about having to go. They need to go now. All of them need to go now. But Eddie can’t go yet because he’s so stupid for choosing this fucking moment to be unconscious. Richie’s fingers ball up into fists while he hangs tight to Eddie at such a loss for words other than thinking up Eddie’s stupid fucking name.

Somebody behind him is talking, doesn’t even sound like Bev. “Rich? Richie? Hey Richie? I’m so, so, so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have. . .”

Richie’s eyes snap open to a very, very blurry face leaning over him. Looks like a lion's mane is hanging around their face and almost tickling his nose. He’s lying on his back not able to make out who this is and why the world is so white around them. Both his hands lash out, searching for Eddie’s face or hand or shoulder or anything that is Eddie but nothing. Eddie’s gone.

“Ri. . .He’s waking up!”

Wait, stop, no, that sounds more like his sister than Bev, Ben, Bill, Stan, or Mike. Of course, it’s not Eddie. Eddie’s gone.

To spite whoever the fuck this is, Richie squeezes his eyes shut feeling the cold smooth ground around him trying to calculate what is happening. Not much is still coming to mind. Just. Eddie’s gone. People don’t come back from stuff like that but also he came back from almost turning into a tree. Those leaves and bark still itching in his throat like he’ll hack away and puke them out all over again. It's as if they bruised the inside of him. Some shouting continues, Richie wants to close his ears with his eyes and focus on what’s most important: Eddie’s gone, and he doesn’t know what that means yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry about how long this update is because I wasn't sure where to break the scene. If it comes to mind, I might do that to make it easier on the eyes.
> 
> Thanks so much still for all the support. There'll just be two more updates, the wrap-up and a mini epilogue.


	5. V.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie wakes up realizing it wasn't all a dream and that kind of really sucks.

# V.

The world becomes clear again once Richie wears his glasses again although _clear_ is a funny word for the situation. He has no idea how he got back to Derry. No idea where all those leaves inside him went. His throat ached but at least there isn’t anything poking out from underneath his fingernails. To one side waits his mom, dad, and sister while on the opposite side of the room lies Eddie in his own hospital bed. A curtain is pulled between them but it means nothing now that he can actually make sense of the world around himself. Eddie is still unconscious, his arm in a big white cast. Even though it's October, the room is sweltering. Somehow Eddie’s mom, Sonia, is fast asleep, snoring and keeping the rest of them up.

His mom, Maggie, kept talking and talking with panic causing her voice to rise to a higher and higher pitch and it’s not like she’s really talking about anything. Sometimes it’s about Richie other times it’s about Eddie. A few times she even brought up some other kids, there are other kids out there that they found who are hurt and in hospital rooms around them. The police came by twice to ask questions but him and Eddie had been out cold. Then to make matters worse, some frog wouldn’t leave him alone but hospital staff said no and his sister took the frog home for the time being.

Richie definitely can’t call the frog _Jason Thundercunt_ in front of his sister or mom so he went with a soft Kitty whenever she brought up the frog before wondering if they ever caught those other despicable boys.

“Mags. . .” Richie interrupts looking from Eddie to his mom.

“Stop calling me, Mags, Richard”

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Richie ignores her.

“There’s one down the hall to the right or left.”

Richie stares at her and fixes his glasses. “Those are my only options.” 

At least there’s no IVs or crazy things attached to Richie ‘cause he gets to climb right out of the bed, steals a glance at Eddie, and he’s off not interested in a bathroom. There are “rooms” all around him. More like little alcoves for patients. A lot of the rooms are beep, beep, beeping but not for him to shut up. Just beeps out there calculating the lives inside. And Richie ends up almost tripping over his own two feet, it’s all because of joint aches. Pain springs back up through him from whatever happened. No, none of that happened. He heard what Mags said.

Him and Eddie hopped a fence, they tried to run but rolled down into the Barrens and were almost hit by a train. Pretty dramatic but not as dramatic as. . .

Thanks to not being able to pay attention, Richie collides with Bill out in the hall. Lot’s of pain. It spikes through him as he comes almost face to face with Bill. The _almost_ being that no matter how tall Richie is, Bill is just a bit taller. It’s enough for both of them to notice.

“Oh! H-Hey. . .Richie. . .” Bill says. His cheeks are burning bright red, it looks as if he’s coming from behind one of the curtained-off rooms. “H-H-Hi.”

The curtain swings open and Bev is standing there, half her face is swollen with little bandages. She smiles though. “The Trashmouth himself.”

“Shit, who the fuck let Ringwald into this hospital.”

Bev squints at him. “Shut up, we’re not that good of friends yet.”

Richie offers up a shrug. “I mean, we all almost did. . .” But did they? Bev and Bill look at the ground not offering anything to finish. Enough people know him around to call him by his nickname like that but even then they’d just really met Bev before everything. “Nevermind, I just. . .had this real weird dream.”

“Same,” Bev and Bill say in unison.

But instead of approaching that matter, Bill digs into his pocket pulling a cassette tape labeled _For You_ out. Richie gulps. His feet might float away from him, which would be so bad cause he’ll either fall flat on his face or crack open the back of his head. Then again, that could be a better option then admitting to Bill this mixtape was never meant him. The humiliation would kill him before a head wound because Richie’s not even the kind of person that can hold his tongue. He’d blurt the truth out ruining some casual friendships along the way.

“I-I-I think th-this is from y-y-you.” Bill still holds the tape out for Richie to grab onto.

Just keep as quiet as possible. Don’t ramble, Richie attempts to remind himself. “Yeah! Or well, sort of.”

“Sort of?” Still Bill holds it out and Richie takes it from him.

“Yeah, sort of. It’s from me. . .but not for you.” Some reason the words feel good once he gets them out in the open between him and Bill and maybe even Bev. Like he dropped some big truth without actually saying a truth of his. Hopefully, Bill though doesn’t connect it to him through Eddie. A different sort of humiliation settles in the back of his mind, an inkling of some other possible future, but there’s no actual future because he’s moving from this town. “Sorry.”

“I-I-I f-f-figured. You know I-I don’t l-like Oingo Boingo.”

“Riiiight.” Richie hides it in the big sleeve of some hospital issued clothes. It looks as if they’re all stuck in them like some weird ass slumber party. “Did you listen. . .?”

Bill shakes his head.

That’s such a relief. “Oh good. Just feel like you’re not really a _Jet Boy, Jet Girl_ kind of person.” Richie turns his attention to Bev who smiles at him. Her cheeks are red, too, like she’s facing too much embarrassment of a different sort or her skin wants to match her hair. “What?”

“What? Nothing,” she replies. “Can I show you something?”

Bill backs up and waves to them.

“No, wait, we should all still say bye to each other.”

“Eds isn’t awake yet.”

Bev looks down the hall to where Richie came from. “Then we can wait for him in your room.”

“And scare him, right?” adds Richie. “Like he’s been in a coma for forty years kind of scare.”

“What? No! You- _You_ suck as a human being.” Bev reaches out a bit to Bill. Her hand comes close to touching the back of his, but he does an awkward flinch to avoid any hand holding situation. “Go get the others.”

Another nod from Bill and he takes off down the hall as Richie follows Bev into her little side room. It has two beds but she’s by herself in it. Doesn’t even look as if somebody’s visited her there. She shows him a postcard of some obscure building with a smile.

“Ok?”

Bev sighs. “Nevermind, actually.”

“No, what is it? Mail? Money?”

Bev rolls her eyes. “I think it’s from Bill.” She flips it over showing Richie what appears to be a poem on the back. He doesn’t really read it. There’s something too uncomfortable about digging into her life or Bill’s. “You know him, right? Like you’re friends?” Her only response from Richie is a quick nod. “Does he like to write. . .poetry?”

“Poetry?” Richie shrugs. “How should I fucking know? The guy likes to write but doesn’t show anybody his stuff. I stole his notebook once though and it was all. . .not poetry.”

“Oh.” Bev sighs. She folds the postcard and puts it into her pocket. “We just met. I shouldn’t have. . .”

Richie just shrugs all over again like it’s a good mechanism to escape the conversation. “Hey, you got a marker?”

“Um. . .” Bev pauses to look down into a book bag by her bed. She digs around for a bit until she pulls out a black marker, which she tosses to Richie. “Don’t tell me, it’s you, you write poetry? Shit.”

“What? Like dating me would be so bad?” Richie turns a bit to block her from seeing him write on the mixtape even as Bev tries to get a good look at it, not gonna happen. Richie shoots her a look over his shoulder. “Hey, so you look great and all, Ringwald, but I’ve got my eyes on somebody else.” The conversation is over, both Bev and Richie let it die. Whatever Richie does, he’s done and drops the marker back with Bev. “Ah shucks, thanks for that, Bev. You’re a real-life savior.”

Bev’s gonna need to exercise her eye muscles because she rolls her eyes again. Because seriously, Richie is such a dick. “Come on, let’s go before my aunt shows up and I have to go.” Bev puts her marker away as she gets up. “You’re too much, Trashmouth. Anybody ever tell you that?”

“Actually, yeah. Most women do, but usually, they’re saying that for other reasons.” 

“RICHARD TOZIER!” Bev gawks at him and swats at the side of his head.

Except Richie ducks under her hand and walks past Bev about to leave the room but he pauses out in the doorway. “What? Do you like have a thing for Bill?!” Richie asks this pretty loud, both on purpose but also not on purpose. He’s just forever loud.

“Shut up, Richie.” Bev jabs him in the back. Her nail strikes under his shoulder blade causing him to yelp a bit and rub his back.

Out in the hallway they spot Stan as he makes his way to Richie’s and Eddie’s room with a _National Geographic_ issue tucked underneath his arm with a bird on the cover. He pauses looking at them and rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’re here.”

“Where the fuck would we be, Stan?” retorts Richie.

“The morgue.”

“Wow. That-That was really dark,” says Bev trying to hold back her laugh because she can’t tell if this is a joke or not.

Stan’s face is all bandaged up, it doesn’t look bruised like Bev’s but Richie can’t remember what happened to any of them in those last few seconds. 

They arrive back at Richie’s and Eddie’s room to find Maggie and Sonia waiting outside.

“I don’t want those kids talking to my boy,” Sonia mutters while looking in at Eddie who’s still unconscious. “It’s their fault he got into this mess.”

“Actually, it was because of LSD’s fault that we got into this mess,” Richie informs her.

“RICHIE!” Mags snaps and looks over at Sonia in shock. “That’s not true. Come on, they need a moment and _we_ need a private moment with some of the doctors.” Mags glares at Richie as she leaves with Sonia, guess she somehow talked the woman into leaving the room. Seems like a rarity.

Mike is already on the inside holding onto what appears to be a scrapbook, a weird fucking thing to bring to an ER. But he’s there with it and smiling as he watches everybody else come in. Bill and Ben file in behind Richie, Bev, and Stan. Everybody but Richie takes an actual seat in a chair or on the floor. Instead, Richie sits on the edge of Eddie’s bed pretending he’s not staring at Eddie.

“You’re probably all wondering why I invited you here today,” starts Mike.

Richie snaps his attention so fast from Eddie to him. “What? That’s not true.”

“I’m kidding, it’s a joke because. . .” Mike pauses and shakes his head like he can dislodge the joke from the conversation. “This is why I never make jokes, I’m not funny.”

“You’re not.” 

So Mike attempts to move out of this mini rut of a conversation. “So, we went on this adventure and I have some bad news.

“I don’t like bad news,” whispers Ben.

Mike would’ve gone on, he even opens up the scrapbook on his lap. Dust flies up as a few newspaper edges crumble apart. But Eddie stirs. Richie looks at him, watching, waiting, and everybody else shuts up doing the same. Watching and waiting.

Eddie opens his eyes. He’s greeted by Richie’s face who is leaning into him. 

“Holy shit! It worked!” is the first thing Richie blurts. “HALLELUJAH! It actually worked!”

“Wh-Wh-What?” Eddie pretty much yawns as he says this, it’s more of a stretch, his body is too taut and tired and he isn’t sure why they’re somewhere that’s all white and bright.

“The machine.”

Eddie squints at Richie but doesn’t sit up. “Huh? What? What machine?” There’s a lot of beeping machines around them though. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well. . .you died and went to hell and so I had to build a machine to break through Earth’s crust and bring you back. You’re in a hospital now. It’s 1993 and you won’t believe what you missed out on like no more President Bush, but instead it’s fucking Robert Redford.”

Eddie looks aghast trying to piece through all these words he just heard. The whole heaven and hell part is utter bullshit but-but 1993. That’s so. . .so many years gone. Richie is shaking his head. “Was I in a coma?” It’d explain so many things.

“Yeah, you were run over by a truck, it was pretty fucking great to watch, too. I thought your head was going to pop.”

“Oh my god! Richie! Shut up already!” snaps Bev before she looks at Eddie. “No comma, don’t listen to him.”

For the first time, Eddie sits up groaning in pain. His stomach hurts, there’s bloody bandages holding him together and some stitches and his arm is officially bound up in a very real cast. He looks out to see everybody’s there and by everybody, that meant. . .

“Richie!” Eddie yelps looking back at him, but he’s still there smiling. “Are you. . .?”

Richie shrugs and gives his shoulder a playful nudge. “Don’t know. Will find out though, I guess.”

Eddie looks at everybody. “I had-I had a dream and you all. . .” 

“So sorry, Eds, but it wasn’t a dream.”

There’s no words, there’s no response, there’s a whole lot of nothing on how to react to that statement. Eddie keeps moving his mouth like he’ll argue with Richie but never ends up doing so. Instead, he’s caught up in those absurd words. 

_It wasn’t a dream_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I meant for this to be about 5-6 chapters long but I feel exhausted whenever I have to read a long chapter so I broke it up and hope that's ok and hope it's a good breakpoint, too.


	6. VI.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie have to say some short goodbyes.

# VI.

Not a dream. Not a dream. None of it was a dream. Not a single part of it could have been a dream and there are all the wounds to prove it. Eddie can feel the bruises deep into his bones informing him for sure _it wasn’t a dream_ but shit like that never happened. Then again, there’s always been strange stories tucked into the corners of Derry. He’s still at such a loss of words while looking at Richie, he wanted to touch his arms and feel for his veins to make sure there was no bark underneath or leaves coming up in a thin layer of blood as Richie puked a lot.

Even with everybody else around, Eddie feels stuck there looking at Richie who’s not even paying attention to him. The rest of the world does. Bev and Stan smile at him and Stan even gives him a little wave. Ben and Bill nod while Mike is still holding onto the ancient-looking scrapbook he brought.

“That’s what I wanted to show you.” Mike does his best to not chip away at any more news articles as he starts to show old clippings about children who’ve gone missing after a huge explosion ripped through an egg hunt. Everybody stays quiet letting the hums of hospital machines fill in the moment. Mike turns a page revealing the details of their body parts found, children ripped apart and found in trees. “Whatever is out there, It has been here for some time now.”

That’s a hard statement to follow up.

But Ben at least has something to say. “I overheard my mom talking to some of the cops. While they were out there looking for us, they started to found the bodies of some of those kids who went missing like-like Betty Ripsom, Eddie C, and. . .”

Bill bites down hard on his lower lip. The pressure causes it to bleed. He’s on the floor even though he’s a bit too lanky to hang out there and get up right away. He comes so close, so close to admitting out loud. _Georgie_ was also found but it’s not like anybody in the room really knew about his brother. Last seen outside on a rainy day. Disappeared into that rain leaving behind a trail of blood. 

“It wanted us, too,” Mike states what nobody else wants to talk about.

“But-But It’s gone, right? Right?!” Eddie looks around at them unsure what he missed. He remembers only pain. Richie touches his knee while sitting there. Eddie looks down distracted by this small gesture and when nobody says anything he takes it as both _yes_ or _I don’t know_ on whether It met its demise or not. So anyway, Eddie adds a small. “Good.” He touches Richie’s fingernails looking at them, squinting as if that’ll turn his vision into x-rays to see if trees grow inside of him.

“Wh-Wh-What if-if It comes back?” Bill of course goes straight for the question on his mind. “Sh-Shouldn’t we do something about that?”

“What? Fuck that, how could whatever the fuck that was be a problem still or ever? We’re just making up stories to prove we’re not crazy!” Richie snaps at him, his hand still resting on Eddie’s knee. “Also, we’re just kids! Like a lot of kids! We can’t do anything! And some of us are. . .” _Moving_. He’s not going to be around for anything.

Eddie stirs a bit, also not wanting to focus on the idea of Richie _moving_ away. Bev picks at her shoes because truth is, she’ll be gone so soon, too. Her dad’s gone. She has no reason to stay all trapped up in Derry. Ben and Stan doesn't really add to what’s going on. For a while, Stan picks at the cover of the _National Geographic_ magazine, looking at the bright red and black bird on the cover.

“There isn’t even a pattern for us to think about,” Stan protests.

“But there is, from the beginning.” Mike shows off illustrations of when Derry was just an abandoned settlement, it’s people gone without a trace and a single tree that said: **We all float down here**. Didn’t even make sense. “And there’s. . .”

“We get it, Mike,” Richie cuts him off. “Derry Unsolved Mysteries. Bad.”

Bill stands up. “That means if It ever comes back, we have to come back, too.”

“Wow, wow, wow!” Richie’s the loudest as everybody else is muttering a lot of words in response to this. “What-What the fuck are you talking about Bill? We can’t just. . .I don’t know!” He stays on the bed, his fingertips digging a little into Eddie’s knee while there, just stress is crushing him.

“We have to! You don’t have to come but if It comes back then another Georgie goes missing. . .” Bill didn’t even mean to say that out loud, but it was out there forcing everybody to cast their focus to the side. It’s not like it’s a secret. “Or another Betty or Eddie C. or what if-what if nobody’s around to save Richie this time around?”

Richie gone with wood, splitting his whole body apart, becoming a part of a forest of lost souls. Eddie tries not to look at Richie because it’s too much. He can still smell all that vomit out there with slick leaves covered in blood. He looks down at Richie’s hand resting on his leg while Richie’s acting like they’re not even close to touching each other.

For some reason, Bev stands up first. She feels some truth in his words. That whatever the fuck was out there in the woods might return. Of course she hopes It’s dead, but nobody was ever out there looking for them, they were all wrapped up in such confusion.

“Ok,” Bev whispers. “Yeah. Ok.”

Bill smiles at her. Ben and Mike stand up next leaving Richie, Stan, and Eddie all undecided.

Richie looks at Eddie thinking about some other kid out there like him instead and what if nobody helped that kid out and that kid lost their Eddie. Without realizing his brain made it happen, he’s on his feet and not only is he on his feet, but he’s helping Eddie up onto his feet, too. As he does this, Richie spots Eddie’s actual pants and not hospital issued ones they’re all stuck in. He uses this as a chance to duck down, slipping the mixtape into Eddie’s real pocket before standing up straight beside them, their arms are so close to touching but don’t. Eddie gives him a weird smile.

Stan is the last to rise up. “I think you’re wrong about this but ok. . .”

With no warning, Bill pulls out the bird-shaped scissors. Richie chokes on all the words he’s close to shouting about it. That’d attract too much attention. Somehow he had it. A finite detail of the danger they all faced out there in the Unknown. Injuries could be explained by falling down a hill or bumping into a desk, but not this. And there Bill stands, bird shaped scissors in hand using the edge to cut open his palm before he turns to Richie who is the closest to him.

Richie holds his breath as he let’s go of Eddie putting both hands out letting the scissors dig into his skin, cutting it open. He bites down on his lips coming so close to releasing a stupid, little yelp.

Bill turns to Eddie who shakes his head. “There’s too many nerves in the palm of your hand, it doesn’t make sense can’t we. . .” But Richie takes his unbroken hand to reach out to Bill who cuts it. Eddie gasps in pain and Richie continues to hang onto his wrist. Holding hands would’ve been a little less weird other than the fact Eddie’s hand is bleeding.

But once everything is done, Bill takes Bev’s hand, their skin and blood touching. Probably not the best for a hospital setting. A nurse doesn’t walk by, good. Bev holds onto Ben’s hand who also holds Stan’s hand. Mike holds Eddie’s hand first even though Richie is right there and Richie even has Bill take his one hand. The two make eye contact. Richie holds Eddie’s hand somewhat smiling at him. Things are too weird and too intense and too. . .to smile right about then.

“How are you?” Richie manages to ask before his mom comes back into the room.

“Pack up, Rich, we’re going home.”

The return of Maggie means the return of Sonia and the return of Sonia means. . .

“EEEDIE! MY EDDIE! YOU'RE ALRIGHT!” She pushes her way past them to grab onto Eddie, prying Eddie’s hand from Richie’s who backs up. He looks over at the mixtape hidden away there and all safe. Whatever. Sonia keeps on screaming about something but she’s so loud, it’s like Richie already lost his hearing.

Bev starts to back out with Bill, Ben stays close to them. Each one of them wave bye to them before filing out of the room. At least, Sonia’s quiet down a lot. Enough for Richie to take a seat on his bed and Eddie leans into his. There’s a nurse in the room with him who Maggie is busy talking to them while looking over some papers, which leaves Richie there even as she tosses a change of clothes to him. Just an old shirt and some pants. He holds onto them still watching Eddie who curls back up into the bed until he realizes Richie is staring at him. 

Instead, Eddie stretches his legs out and lies around there. “I’ll see you around, Richie.”

“You better or I’ll show up and drag you outside myself,” replies Richie.

“Wow, so that was pretty aggressive.”

Richie stands up hugging his clothes to his chest. “Well, then I’ll serenade you.”

Eddie shakes his head. “That sounds worse.”

“I’ll pull a _Say Anything_ and just play music outside until you get out. Something horrible like _Surfin’ Bird_ so you gotta put an end to it.” Richie smirks at Eddie as he walks by him and pauses in the doorway. “See you later, Eds.”

Eddie continues to sit there, smiling. “Bye.” 

The two only have silence to share like Richie’s listening up for a change to all the beep, beep, beeping around him. He has a huge smile as he looks at Eddie before moving out and staring at the floor. This leaves Eddie behind who can’t even hear Sonia go on and on and on, prattling about how he can’t trust any of those other kids. They’re only around to break him. Look at him already, broken. At least, she only knows about his broken arm and not what Eddie realizes he’s gonna have to call a broken heart one of these days.

###

The ride home, Richie attempts to see how far he can slip down into his seat. He keeps his knees pressed into the back of his sister’s seat as she’s up front being berated for drinking enough to land herself in the hospital. Maggie’s all mad because apparently all her kids are a mess.

“They need to get a handle on this whole graffiti going on. That better not be either of you.” Maggie won’t stop talking.

Richie moves to press his nose to the window. His breath causes steam to cross it as they pass the canals that run through Derry. Eddie Cocaran went missing out here one night and then they met again somewhere in the Unknown. Richie sits up a bit more catching sight of Maggie’s complaints. In jagged red letters he makes out: **Pennywise Lives**.

“Well, I like it,” concludes Richie’s sister. “Maybe, it’s art.”

“You got your beer goggles on, kid.” Maggie shakes her head, but she does chuckle at the comment. Ignoring them she switches the radio on letting music speak up for her.

_And everything looks good tonight. I was singin’ la-la-la-la-la. . ._

The entire time Richie’s there still steaming up the window as they pass the canals and the center of Derry

It’s weird because he’s pretty sure he knows somebody by that name. Richie starts to cough, Maggie complains wanting him to cover his mouth more but he did until he noticed flakes of bark hitting his palms. They keep riding on into the night. Richie presses his hands into the seat looking up, straight, feeling his spine go ramrod straight.

Something’s wrong with him.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie finds out, the mixtape was always meant for him.

# Epilogue

Eddie stands around, alone and back in his very familiar room. Yet none of it is familiar anymore. Whatever normalcy he found here or elsewhere in Derry was sapped from him thanks to the Unknown. He stands there staring at all his white walls without much decoration because his mother would have choice words with him about any decision he made. The closet is full of fallen, dirty clothes rather than any hanging up. His hamper is empty, too. A fanny pack sits on a nightstand surrounded by a protective circle of pill bottles. He sighs, tossing his jacket onto the bed glad his mother didn’t comment on his actual Halloween costume. The jacket hits the bed and plops off. He’s about to change when he realizes something is sticking out from underneath it.

For what feels like an entire eternity, Eddie stands there looking at a rectangle poking out from a pocket. A crack runs across it, but that’s ok. It’s a mixtape and it’s safe inside a protective cover. It’s a mixtape. Right there. _Fuck_. Eddie continues to stand in the same spot proving there’s more than an eternity when it comes to time, besides it’s all relative anyway. At some point, he must’ve gotten it back from Bill and forgot to hand it over to Richie. So Richie’s gonna be all pissed at him the next day.

Eddie picks it up staring at it. Even with the cracks in the protective covering, he can make out the words on it. Just. He can see them like they’re real loud and clear, shouting in his head because the _you_ in _For You_ is crossed out, replaced by _Eds_ , which then is also crossed out or at least the _s_ so instead it somewhat says Eddie.

_Stop calling me Eds_ , but actually, Eds was better than Eddie when it came to the sort of trash Richie says.

Some reason, Eddie wishes it was for anyone but him. After all that, anybody but him ‘cause the truth is Richie’s leaving Derry soon. Nobody can stop the Tozier family from leaving for the west coast. It’d leave him stuck, hanging out on the complete opposite coast that some people forgot about with some new friends who’ll only ever remind him of Richie each time they spoke up.

Rather than listen right away, Eddie holds the mixtape to his chest. He sits down on his bed glancing at the pill bottles there. A little alarm goes off demanding his attention, but he clicks it off so he can lie there in peace hugging the mixtape like it's something to be hugged. At some point, his mother passes by his door wishing him a good night's sleep before she is off. He hears her door shut. Although Eddie lightly closes his door even though there’s no doorknob, anybody can come in and out defeating any chance at privacy. Doesn’t matter. 

Eddie lets some time pass before he finally pops the cassette into a player, he puts some headsets on and lies back down on his bed to look at the plain ceiling listening to a sickly sweet and fuzzy song. A reminder of all the times they camped out in the Tozier basement on the mustard shag carpet with stolen cigarettes for Richie to smoke and him to refuse and rattle off all the ways nicotine kills. Once they stole his sister’s record player along with her taste in music. This song played out on it, the sounds of a summer now gone.

_This is the happy house-we're happy here, There's room for you if you say "I do"  
But don't say no or you'll have to go._

Such a weird thought. Summer’s been gone and winter was coming and with winter Richie’d be gone with all his music, wisecracks, bad jokes, and sense of spontaneous adventure even though Eddie is sure he’ll die if he continues on any of those. Lost in the cozy sounds, Eddie lies there and looks at his bandaged palm. Bill made them all promise though to come back in case something ever happens again like to them out there in the Unknown. Tomorrow he’d need to call Richie, it’s too late now. There’s a lot, _a lot_ to talk about. Right now would be great, but his mother would catch onto it, ruin the whole music. Images of trees and dead kids try and creep up on Eddie, but he lies in his bed, headphones on, listening to music and he tries to push away thoughts of the past for a future.

For two kids who couldn’t shut up, they were so bad at words and even worse at feelings, and yet Richie was loud and clear on how he felt. The stinging of Bill’s cut wakes Eddie back up for a moment. He looks at his hand thinking over again of their promise. Something he’ll bring up on the phone reminding Richie in every way possible while not letting him know at the same time _they got to start somewhere_.

And maybe now, Richie wouldn’t leave, none of them could, maybe instead, they’re bound to Derry and each other, which is a nice enough dream to let Eddie fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! I feel positive about this even though it's like pretty ambiguous so I'm sorry about that. Hope you liked almost everything and thank you so much for all the support, it meant a lot to me and I can't believe I finished any of this, to be honest. Please continue to let me know if you love it, if you don't, please forever hold your peace.
> 
> P.S. Here's the mixtape tracklist cause I listen to garbage and am gonna share it and all it's inspirations fr this.
> 
> 1\. Just Like Honey by The Jesus and Mary Chain  
> 2\. I'm in Love with a German Film Star by The Passions  
> 3\. Happy House by Siouxsie & the Banshees  
> 4\. Dead Man's Party by Oingo Boingo  
> 5\. I was a Teenaged Werewolf by The Cramps (I couldn't resist)  
> 6\. Jet Boy, Jet Girl by Elton Motello (Also sidenote: this just really makes me think of Richie)
> 
> [ Richie's Mixtape for Eddie (Spotify)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7MVk3xIS9nDBk7XpRzsoSA?si=Ejwk_bFuQJCagqmHU7B7fg)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everybody who stuck it out with me and has been reading this because I've had a lot of fun writing it. 
> 
> Please let me know if you love it and if you don't please forever hold your peace.
> 
> _P.S. I cried over the last part to this but that's because I cry over everything but I hope to make other people cry, too._


End file.
